


Ghosts Made Flesh

by coolant



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22824952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolant/pseuds/coolant
Summary: Dedue struggles with Dimitri’s decline after the battle at Bridge of Myrddin. At Byleth’s suggestion, he attempts to convince the prince to rest.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 10
Kudos: 136





	Ghosts Made Flesh

This was the second time now a ghost made flesh appeared to him.

Dedue looked the same, then different when Dimitri noticed the white scars on his lip, chin, cheek. For a moment, as Dedue swore his fealty once again, Dimitri could pretend a lifetime had not passed since he’d last seen his friend

“Never throw your life away again.” The order seemed to shock Dedue. Dimitri’s heart thumped harder than it had in years at the gentle smile he offered.

“I understand.” He said, in the voice Dimitri had heard in his nightmares for years, calling out to him, cursing him. But now, it sounded warm. Dimitri had missed it.

—

Back at the monastery, Byleth greeted Dedue with a surprisingly tight hug.

“I’m so glad to see you.” Dedue could have sworn he saw a tear in her eye. She smiled, something rare from his old Professor. “The greenhouse was lonely.”

“You too, Professor.” Dedue admitted. He always felt a fondness for Byleth, enjoying her company in the greenhouse, and her attentiveness when he felt comfortable enough to speak. Looking at her now, she didn’t look a day older than five years ago but for the purple bags beneath her eyes.

“We’ve all missed you.” Byleth squeezed his arm, then added. “Especially Dimitri, though he won't admit it. He… needs you.”

It wasn’t what she said, but how she said it, and the knowing look in her eye that made Dedue’s stomach clench. He opened his mouth to respond, but could not.

“Maybe you can get him to sleep for more than two hours at a time.” Byleth turned to leave and winked. “Or even take a bath. Let me know, I’ll send one up to his room.”

—

Dedue began getting nervous as he mounted the stairs to the dormitories. Despite their brief reunion on the Bridge, Dimitri was no longer the prince he’d once known. Would it be strange, seeing him after all that time and change?

Five years ago when he was bedridden, wounds from Dimitri’s rescue healing with impossible slowness, Dedue missed him so much it hurt. His duty was to protect Dimitri, and he was unable to do it.

He hoped Dimitri would not hate him for this failure.

Dedue palmed the door open, surprised to find it unlocked. The room looked largely untouched. If Dimitri ever slept here, there was no sign of it. He sat at the foot of his bead, cleaning Areadbhar. He seemed unaware of the tub that had appeared a few feet away, steam still rising from its contents.

“The Professor sent up a bath.” Dedue said cautiously.

“A useless endeavor.” Dimitri scoffed. Byleth had warned of the prince’s new disposition and Dedue was sorry to find her assessment accurate.

“She cares about your wellbeing.” Dimitri bristled and only grunted in response. “She and I both hope you will try to get some rest.”

“I can’t.” His voice and gaze were both sharp.“The dead cannot rest until that woman is dead, and neither can I.”

It pained Dedue to see him this way, like an animal, half-crazed. It pained him to see his bright blue eye bloodshot and rimmed in purple.

“At least the bath, then?”

“I do not have time for such things.” He looked away, continuing to polish a minuscule spot of Areadbhar’s blade. “I am a weapon of war, now. Nothing more.”

“You clean weapons after battle, don’t you? To preserve their sharpness?” Dedue countered, gesturing towards the spear in his hands. Dimitiri paused, scowling.

“Fine.” He spat, leaning Areadbhar against the wall and beginning to fidget impatiently with the buckles of his armor. “If it will make you both cease your pestering.”

Out of habit Dedue moved to assist Dimitri with removing his armor. Dimitiri froze for a moment- another body so close was jarring. Dedue worried he had been too familiar too soon- it had been a long time, after all. But then Dimitri relaxed his hand and let it fall to his side, allowing Dedue to continue.

As he worked, Dedue noticed how broad Dimitri had grown. Dedue remembered him as tall and lanky. Now, his shoulders and arms sloped with sharp lines, his muscles defined and worryingly lean. His body did not look like one a person lived in. It was only a finely-tuned machine for battle.

Once the armor was off, Dimitiri carelessly removed his shirt and trousers. Though Dedue had seen him nude in passing plenty before, something about the sight struck him. The prince had no shame about his nakedness, nor pride in his physique. He stank of sweat and blood and his body was covered in dirt and scars, new and old. When Dimitri caught him staring, Dedue retreated to fetch toiletries.

When Dimitri finally submerged himself in the tub, Dedue heard him let out a long sigh in the back of his throat. Dedue felt a swell of satisfaction, then heat on the back of his neck.

Dedue knelt down to pour soap into the tub and lay a washcloth on the lip. He was avoiding looking at Dimitri now, because although he thought nothing of his nakedness, Dedue was painfully aware. Even out of the corner of his eye, he could see the expanse of Dimitri’s chest, the scattering scars, every harsh line of muscle.

He couldn’t look, precisely because he wanted to. It felt perverse to indulge in that desire. This was duty, not pleasure.

Dedue began to leave, to allow Dimitri privacy when he felt a water-warmed thumb beneath his lips. Dimitri held his face lightly, looking at the white scars on his chin and jaw.

“Five years of scars, you and I.” He said dryly. Now that he was closer, Dedue could see Dimitri’s scars more clearly. Most of them were poorly healed, likely sewn up by Dimitri himself. The thought of him alone and bleeding, tearing thread with his teeth made Dedue incredibly sad.

“A long five years.” Dedue replied after clearing his throat, praying the heat on his cheeks was not visible. His skin burned where Dimitri had touched him.

“I thought you were dead.” Dimitiri told him after a beat, his face hardening. He sounded bitter, the memory of the horrors he imagined bringing him pain. “I saw you die when I closed my eyes. I saw you- executed in my place.”

“I could not die before seeing His Highness achieve victory.” It took all the will Dedue possessed to not allow his voice to shake. He had been ready to die for Dimitri 5 years ago. He’d made his peace with it. But he was happy to survive if it meant fighting at Dimitri’s side once more.

The prince’s gaze softened, then shifted away. He needs you. Dedue remembered Byleth’s words like a jolt of electricity.

“Would you like me to assist you, Your Highness?” Dedue asked because he did not want to leave his side so soon. “I could wash your back.” Dimitri thought, then nodded.

Dedue rolled up his sleeves. He numbly realized he had never touched his highness like this before. He normally wouldn’t dare, fearful of making him uncomfortable. However, now he didn’t trust Dimitri to clean himself.

And, even more so, Dedue wanted to touch his skin.

He ran the washcloth gently across Dimitri’s back, washing away what was surely months of sweat and grime. His skin gradually began to regain its natural pallor.

“Those scars on your face.” The prince spoke without preamble. “You got them helping me escape.” Dimitri was not asking a question. He already knew the answer.

“Yes.” Dedue focused on not letting his hand on a Dimitri’s back linger too long. “My injuries are what kept me from finding you sooner, Your Highness.” Dimitri shifted beneath his touch. Dedue intended this as an explanation, but realized it might seem accusatory. Dimitri said nothing. The water droplets falling from his hair made delicate sounds.

There were new scars on his back, too, though not as deep as those on his torso. Arrowheads that caught dents in his armor, Dedue figured. One was new, still bright pink, and when Dedue touched it with a finger, Dimitri grunted.

It couldn't have hurt him that badly, judging by its size and depth, which lead Dedue to believe it was the surprise of being touched with a bare finger that elicited the response. Dedue swallowed.

Looking at him, bent over in the tub, half heartedly scrubbing his limbs, his body a constellation of scars and burns, made Dedue’s heart clench. Had he been by His Highness’ side, perhaps he could have spared him even a fraction of this pain.

5 years ago when he awoke after his failed execution in the Duscar soldiers’ camp, feverish with pain, he had thought of Dimitri first. He only caught a glimpse of the prince before the rescue party ferried him away. He was all purple bruises, fair hair matted with blood. The image of his battered form seared itself into Dedue’s brain. His Duscar brothers tended to his wounds and politely ignored the silent sobs wracking his broken body.

Dedue remembered that image of Dimitri, beaten and bloody, as he traced the scars on his back. Dedue rested his fingers where Dimitri’s back and shoulder muscles met. He felt a hard knot there.

“You're carrying a lot of tension here, Your Highness.” Dedue noted, pressing into the spot experimentally, eliciting another, deeper grunt.

“So it would seem.” Dimitiri’s reply was uncharacteristically weak, his head lolling forward. He had abandoned his scrubbing.

“Would you like me to massage your back?” Dedue asked, feeling out of body watching himself be so forward. “It may help ease your pain.” How did he dare even think touch His Highness so? He wanted to. How dare he want to? _He needs you._

Dimitri let out a shaky breath and shrugged. “Do what you will.”

Dedue took a deep breath and found that same knot and pressed into it with the pad of his thumb, pushing it firmly like flattening out a wrinkled cloth. Again, Dimitri groaned, mouth closed. With each pass, his fingers clenched and uncleared on the sides of the tub. When Dedue moved down to where his upper and mid back met, his groans became less restrained, more throaty. Dedue’s neck felt hot again. He could hear his own heartbeat.

Dedue had missed Dimitri. He had missed the sound of his voice, the smell of him. Perhaps it was foolish. Ever since the tragedy at Duscar, they had been inseparable. Perhaps out of a sense of obligation, or perhaps one of security. All Dedue knew was being apart from him was agony.

Dedue recognized one of the scars as he moved his hand over it. It was old and faded, but had been dangerously deep once. Dimitri had gotten it while shielding him nearly a decade ago. Thrown himself over a stranger, with no regard for his own well-being.

Dedue longed to kiss it.

Dedue withdrew his hands and exhaled through his nose, realizing he had hardly been breathing. “I hope I have helped ease your pain, some, Your Highness.” Dimitri was again unresponsive, but Dedue could see the muscles in his back move as his chest heaved.

“Perhaps we should get you to bed, now.” Dedue said cautiously, fearful he had over-stepped once more. Dimitri nodded slowly.

“...Yes.” The dark tone of his rejoinder gave Dedue a chill. Before he could hand Dimitri a towel and flee, the prince stepped gracelessly out of the bath. He stood, looking at Dedue beneath a heavy brow.

Dedue realized Dimitri had an erection. Dedue thought to look away, to hand him the towel and leave. But instead he watched him, standing still, only breathing, water clinging to every hard plane of muscle. He looked like an animal, deciding whether to attack or to flee.

Dedue’s mind swam. Should he pretend he hadn’t seen anything? Feign ignorance to protect Dimitri’s pride? Though now, those groans as Dedue had touched him took on new meaning...

He should say something. Play it off and make as graceful an exit as possible. But Dedue had caught Dimitri’s eye, and the intensity of his gaze was paralyzing.

“Dimitri-“ Dedue’s voice caught in his throat and something snapped. Dimitri rushed forward, grabbing Dedue by the back of the neck, and kissed him.

Dedue gasped into Dimitri’s mouth, his hands lying limp at his sides. It simply could not be that after five long years, his prince was here, alive, and drinking him in like a man dying of thirst.

It couldn’t be that after a decade of longing, he was being kissed by the man he loved.

 _He needs you._ Dedue remembered again, and it brought him a kind of sick comfort. How selfish, to be needed in such a wonderful way.

Dedue tangled his fingers in Dimitri’s wet hair. He kissed the prince hard. Dimitri shuddered, blunt nails dragging over his scalp, pulling their bodies closer together.

Dimitri was feral, kissing with tongue and teeth. It was not gentle, but it need not be. His kisses traveled from Dedue’s lips to his cheeks to his jaw. His breathing was jagged, drinking his fill of Dedue before pausing to gasp for air. He touched the scar on Dedue’s lip, his hands trembling.

“I thought you were dead.” He said again, his voice hoarse. Dedue thought to say _I am not dead_ , but instead he kissed him, tongue darting into his mouth. Dedue grabbed Dimitri’s waist and they were chest to chest. Even beneath his clothes their closeness felt transcendent. He could feel Dimitri’s erection heavy on his thigh.

Dimitri kept pulling him closer, insatiable, biting along his jaw, his neck. It would leave marks. He growled, clawing at the hem of Dedue’s shirt. Dedue broke the kiss this time and Dimitri let out a low whimper.

“We should get you to bed.” Dedue said with a quavering voice.

“To bed.” The prince echoed darkly.

Dedue laid him on the bed. He removed his own shirt and he could feel his limbs quaking. Dimitri touched his stomach, feeling the scars, sucking in air through his teeth when he found the newest ones. Those were the wounds that had kept Dedue from Dimitri’s side.

Dedue bent down to kiss his neck. Dimitri’s breath caught. Dedue kissed each scar he came upon, laving them with his tongue, sucking, as if he could pull Dimitri’s pain out like poison, just as he’d dreamed of doing every night for a decade. Dimitri’s groans of pleasure got increasingly wanton with each kiss. He clawed at Dedue’s shoulder, frantic to feel as much of him as he could.

Dedue hazily noted how incredible it felt to kiss Dimitri, how divine the sting of his nails felt. The tingle of his breath hot in his ear. The electricity shooting up his spine when his prince whispers:

“Please, Dedue-“

Dedue placed his hands on Dimitri’s hips, inches away from his cock, and marveled despite himself. How had he been allowed to see the prince like this, laid out, trembling, teeth bared? Dedue leaned down, almost reverent, and kissed the shaft of his cock.

“Ah!” Dimitri gasped, clawing at Dedue’s head and neck. This time, Dedue added tongue and Dimitri hissed, hips tensing. When Dedue took him into his mouth and Dimitri let out a stuttering groan, his loudest yet. “Goddess…” he sputtered.

He couldn’t even manage a sentence and Dedue felt proud. He slid the cock in and out of his mouth, stroking it with one hand. He could already taste the prince’s precum. His sounds were desperate, needy, his breathing ragged.

“Dedue…” Dimitri whispered his name like a prayer and he felt like he was floating. His own cock pressed painfully against the fabric of his trousers. He would be ashamed of how much pleasure this brought him, sucking the princes cock, but not until much later.

When the bucking of his hips became more chaotic, Dedue knew he was close to coming. “Dedue-“ he said again. He sounded like he was crying. The king came with a quick shout. Dedue swallowed it and felt a jolt in his already burning belly.

Dimitri looked incredible, his blond hair half wet and splayed haphazardly across his pillow. His chest heaved slower now, his limbs limp and pliable. His eye was half closed, but he turned it to his companion. Thinking he wanted to speak, Dedue leaned in close, and Dimitri grabbed his face for one last ferocious kiss. It took Dedue’s breath away. Dimitri pulled himself to a seat.

“Your pants,” Dimitri muttered, clawing at the buttons keeping his painful erection trapped. Dedue watched in a haze, so overwhelmed he forgot this sort of thing required his participation. Dimitri clawed his cock free and straddled Dedue’s lap, pressing him against the wall next to the bed. Dimitri’s eye flicked to Dedue’s face, then he spit into his palm.

Dedue let out a shuddering sigh. He hadn’t thought ahead this far- he’d dreamed of touching Dimitri, but never dared think of Dimitri touching him.

Dimitri slid his spit-slicked hand over Dedue’s cock and leaned forward, kissing his collarbone, biting his neck.

“Dimitri,” He whispered. Dimitri growled. Dedue could not see his face but could hear his nervous excitement. His touch was erratic and clumsy but it was good, because it was him. There was nothing else in the world but his hands and mouth.

The prince pulled back, cradling his head and kissed him again. Could he taste his own seed in Dedue’s mouth? Dedue’s cock twitched in Dimitri’s hand.

“Dedue.” The prince whispered, touching his face with such tenderness Dedue thought he might cry. “Dedue.” He said again, searching his face, but for what Dedue couldn’t tell. Dimitri looked calm, then, as if hypnotized by a singular focus... “Dedue…”

“Come for me, Dedue.” Dedue’s heart clenched. He moaned. The fire in his belly boiled over. He came on Dimitri’s hand and his own chest. Dimitri stayed kneeling over him, breathing heavily, resting his head in the nape of Dedue’s neck, peppering kisses there.

Dedue wrapped his arms around the prince, feeling his body and the life that was in it. Together they breathed, till both their breathing slowed. For a moment, there was stillness. No war, no ghosts- just tangled limbs and a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic brought to you by: how Dimitri definitely smells super bad for a lot of the games second act, right?
> 
> This fic took me so long for some reason! I’ve wanted to write them since the summer when I got the game.
> 
> Forgive my typos, I’m terrible at typing and also reading. :)


End file.
